


The Master

by Faesapphic



Series: Plot Bunnies [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Character Bashing, Character Death, Death Eaters, F/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Master of Death Harry Potter, Necromancy, POV Hermione Granger, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter), Trials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 10:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20208388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faesapphic/pseuds/Faesapphic
Summary: Fear is all she knows right now, watching her husband chained to a chair, one that was originally made for Death Eaters after the first war. The chair now has another use, the Blood Traitors.But Hermione knows the truth, she knows the lies in the Ministry, she researched everything since the war started, she was favoured by Dumbledore himself. It was all propaganda, the Purebloods lied to them about protecting Muggleborns, the public became foolish sheep following a false leader.Yet how was she still so wrong? How is it, that she is the fool?Hermione realised how ignorant she was, being dragged to the chair, it was her turn. Her turn to greet death like an old friend.





	The Master

Fear, that’s all she knew right now, Hermione Granger was standing at the side of a courtroom, the courtroom that was originally for Death Eaters to be questioned at their trials. Hermione was 25 now and she wasn’t in the perfect shape she dreamed on being when she was younger, dressed in rags, dirt marring her once flawless skin and her usually frizzy hair flattened by the amounts of grease from months of being restricted a shower. When she came into the wizarding world she thought it would be all fun and eye opening, learning about all kinds of magic and creatures she never once believed to exist, yet as the years passed in Hogwarts, the truth of politics, racism and wars were revealed.

Voldemort came back to the wizarding world in her second year, she didn’t know exactly what happened, but it had something to do with that Basilisk and whoever was opening the chamber. The only major thing that knew was that Ginny lost her life, her first year in the magnificent building known as Hogwarts, deemed to be the safest place. So much for that. Voldemort had fooled everyone, but Hermione knew better, even if this new Voldemort preached about protecting Muggleborns, Hermione knew that it was all a lie.

She rebelled of course, once she left Hogwarts, she joined a secretive rebellion, The Order of the Phoenix, the people in this rebellion were those like Albus Dumbledore, the Weasleys, Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody, she firmly believed that magic should be controlled and that schools needed to be tailored for Muggleborns. Really, Muggles had a right to know about this world, the potions could help with so many sicknesses, these Wizards are just selfish, wanting to kidnap children from their muggle families and legalise dark magic. How dare they. Dark magic is dark and that meant that it was evil and would only do harm.

Hermione wasn’t directly involved in the war, but she was the strategist, she researched everything about everyone and every spell, planning out raids so perfectly and creating the perfect wards to prevent the Death Eaters from discovering their final base. But the wards weren’t good enough, when the Order had their latest Muggleborn raid, one of them was a fake, a new, evolved kind of necromancy. Hermione had never seen it before, the girl was detected by her own spell which pointed out Muggleborns, yet she was also a girl who died 150 years ago. It was how the last base of the Order was discovered.

Now here she was, her hands bound by magic suppressing shackles and her arm in the tight grip of a Death Eater, she was forced to watch this trial, the trial of her husband. Ronald Weasley. Ron was chained to the chair in the middle of the clearing, the Minister, Lucius Malfoy was questioning him in a calm tone, but Hermione just ignored it, occasionally smiling whenever Ron gave Lucius a comeback, it was a shame that Lucius ignored it. Beside the Minister was Lord Voldemort himself, he crowned himself as the “Lord” of the British Wizarding World, the public were fooled by Lord Voldemort’s charming looks, the brown hair that curled ever so slightly sat perfectly on his head, he was the embodiment of male perfection, the perfect pure-blood. He had even changed his name to Aazhih Slytherin, everyone was a fool for not seeing that this man was Voldemort himself.

On the other side of Lucius, stood the man Hermione once looked up to before she went to Hogwarts, she was excited to meet him, hopeful to be his close friend when she encountered him on the boats towards Hogwarts. But this man betrayed his own flesh and blood, becoming the very thing that killed his parents.

Harry Potter.

Hermione knew, along with Ron, that Harry Potter wasn’t the saviour they believed to be when the hat sorted him into Slytherin, he was a fake. It must’ve been some dark magic that destroyed Voldemort in the first war, or Voldemort corrupted Harry and faked his death himself.

The man was standing with a smirk that could make a child cry, his eyes dark with hostility as he watched Ron in the chair. The scar that he was well known for, spread across his face, it looked like a real lightning bolt now, starting from the right side of his forehead and spreading across his nose, cutting through the right eyebrow and the left corner of his lip before finally settling on his jawline. If Harry wasn’t such a distrusting man, Hermione would think that he was attractive, she heard the rumours about him throughout the war, about how Harry was even more insane than Bellatrix, managing to seduce the Dark Lord but only being able to find pleasure either through torturing people or being tortured himself. It was revolting. That scar that once brewed hope, only brought darkness, raw dark magic leaked out of it, Hermione could see the black smoke flowing out of the skin every so often. 

Harry was just infected by dark magic, Hermione continued to scan his face, finally resting on his eyes, she should’ve listened to the signs. Ever since Harry defeated Lord Voldemort, his right eye had turned a deep blood red, the same shade as Lord Slytherin’s, it was proof that his accomplishment was impossible for any wizard that was light. Of course, Harry was just as egotistical as Lord Voldemort, rebranding himself as Dahir Peverell, though Hermione refused to even acknowledge them in their new personas. 

Harry Potter dubbed himself as “The Master of Death”, as if! That old children’s tale was only a tale, it only happened to be a coincidence that Harry was related to the real Peverells and he owned three objects that were similar to the items described in the story, there was no such thing as the Deathly Hallows. It was just a sham, all because of Harry’s right arm. Hermione’s eyes drifted down to the offending limb that was ever so feared, she knew that it was only the result of a curse gone wrong or a really advanced glamour. The top of the right arm was relatively normal but as you go further down towards the forearm, the entire limb changed, the forearm was black with trails of smoke slowly drifting out of the faint cracks in the skin, at Harry’s elbow, bone was jutting out to create some form of spike that pointed upwards, a possible weapon if Harry wanted to elbow someone. At Harry’s hand, his fingers were stretched out, an extra digit was made, and the fingers ended in sharp claws, Hermione guessed that the fingers were half a foot long (6 inches).

Rumour had it, that this arm was capable of things not even a dementor could do, Harry was able to pull out the soul out of everyone. When in reality, it was just a fancy spell. Hermione knew it was impossible to pull out a soul without some form of ritual and spell. 

Hermione’s thoughts were put to a standstill when she heard Malfoy speak the words she dreaded, even though she knew that there was no way out of this trial alive, it was still hard to hear.  
“Ronald Bilius Weasley, you have been found guilty of these crimes” Lucius stated coldly “Rebellion against the Ministry, rebellion against the Lord, being associated with the Order of the Phoenix, kidnapping Muggleborns out of their wizarding orphanages, killing members of the Death Eaters and spouting prejudice against dark magic and creatures classed as dark.” The Minister frowns at the Ron, Hermione noticed that her husband had been silenced, the ponce Malfoy must’ve been offended by the truth, her stare hardened when Lucius started to speak again. “Due to the manner of the crimes, you will be sentenced to death, not by the kiss, but by the Master of Death himself” Malfoy finished without even a hint of emotion.

Now it was time, Hermione was now going to see how much they are lying about Harry’s powers, she smirked internally, soon she will garner the knowledge she wished to have since the rumours started. Hermione will spill no tears, she will stay strong for her love. 

Hermione watched as Harry Potter stepped forwards towards Ron, his cursed hand flicking as he released the bonds around him, forcing Ron upright on his feet and cancelling the silencing charm. Harry stopped a few feet in front of Ron, ignoring his jeers as he raised the twisted hand, Hermione’s heart increased in speed and her eyes widened, she didn’t want to blink in case she missed the spell. Little did Hermione know, was how painful it would be.

As Harry levelled his clawed hand against Ron’s chest, the claws pressed into the rags, blood spreading into the fabric as the skin was pierced. Then Ron screamed, but this scream was worse than hearing those under the cruciatus curse, it was so full of pain, Ron’s voice cracking every so often, tears flowing down his face. Hermione saw that even Lord Voldemort seemed to wince at this sight. Hermione herself was truly terrified, the rumours weren’t fake, it wasn’t fake. She looked on in fear as she saw Harry pull out and small white orb from Ron’s chest, letting it float into a small vial labelled “Ronald Weasley’s magical core”, how was it possible? How could Harry draw out someone’s core? 

The screams started again before Hermione could ponder more, this time a larger orb, as big as a fist was being slowly dragged through Ron’s chest, once it was removed, Hermione saw Ron go limp, his body collapsing onto the floor at Harry’s feet. The larger white orb placed into another vial, big enough to hold this one, labelled “Ronald Weasley’s Soul”. Harry potter showed no emotion throughout the entire process, using wandless magic to lift Ron up again, limbs flopping about, before Harry plunged the clawed hand into Ron’s chest, the sound of ribs breaking echoed through the courtroom. Harry pulled out the silent heart, giving it a soft smile before muttering into the dead body’s ear.

Hermione let out a shriek of terror as she saw her husband’s body go rigid, she watched in horror as the bleeding body moved, standing up right, eyes now glazed with black, it walked towards the door to a pair of Death Eaters, being led outside. Hermione suddenly realised something, her mind connecting the dots. Ever since this second war, the outer circle of Death Eaters only wore animal skull’s, the inner circle would wear the skulls of Basilisks when in battle. The ones who wore the original Death Eater masks were not people at all, they were in fact reanimated by Harry Potter himself, the true inferius.

Now Hermione knew, she was the fool all along, she should’ve listened to the rumours about the Master of Death, she should’ve been more careful, she should’ve investigated the dark side more. What if she was wrong? If she was wrong about the Master of Death, what else was she wrong on? 

Hermione was on the wrong side of the war, her mind didn’t even process what the Minister was saying as she allowed herself to be dragged to the chair, chains wrapping around her body tightly. 

It was all a lie, Dumbledore was the true Dark Lord, Hermione realised, she was just a pawn, manipulated to believe that everything dark is evil… But also forgetting the one rule she firmly believed in when she lived in the muggle world.

Hermione said nothing as Lucius sentenced her to death, she didn’t glare when Harry walked up to her, she didn’t fight as the pain spread through her body, it was truly worse than the Cruciatus. All Hermione cared about was one thing, the one sentence her parents drilled into her when she questioned them about certain people in society.

Nothing is just Black and White.

**Author's Note:**

> This concept has been sat in my mind for a while, I really like the idea.
> 
> If this fic gets a lot of Kudos and many people ask for it in the comments, I may make it into a full fic.
> 
> If there's any errors in grammar or if things don't add up in certain areas, please comment them so I can fix it.


End file.
